Together We Stand
by QuickSpinner
Summary: A collection of introspective pieces from each of Hawke's companions. Ch 1 - Anders, one-sided Anders/F!Hawke romance


_Author's note: Thank you so much for giving my story a chance. My intention is for this to be a collection of short, one-shot pieces written from each companion's point of view. This will be a bit of a challenge, as I definitely relate to some companions more than others, but I hope you'll enjoy the ride. Not all will be romance-related, I'm sure, but it seemed like a good jumping-off point for this piece. Enjoy._

**Selfishness**

I treasure these days, when she comes down for a few hours from her mansion on high to work beside me here in the dirt and filth. It's purely selfish of me - it's nice that she comes to help, but it's really just that I love having her all to myself. Except for the patients, of course, but they're too caught up in their own troubles to care about anything we do, or say, or how we look at each other...how I look at her.

I'm finished for the moment, my patient gone, and I sit for a minute and watch her. I never get tired of watching her. Her eyes are half-closed as her hands weave a graceful pattern in the air over her patient. She has very elegant hands. To my eyes she glows brightly, mana swirling within her. She pulls it down into her hands, works it into the shape she requires, and releases it to settle like a blanket over the sick woman on the pallet.

It makes me laugh to remember our first meeting. She threatened me, and I called her a little girl. I didn't look twice at her when she first came in. She's too petite, too lean, too tanned, too sweet-faced. Not my type at all. But she has her own beauty, her own grace, and it's more than enough for me now. I like her hair, too, a kind of sun-bleached blond that you don't see very often in Kirkwall. A Fereldon color.

These are the moments I feel most like my old self, sitting here thinking purely selfish thoughts. These are moments when I'm the closest to separating Justice's thoughts from my own. Justice doesn't give a fig for elegant hands and full lips. Whatever of myself I have lost, my desires are still my own.

Even so, he intrudes. I love her as much for what she is as who she is. She is a living example of exactly what I'm fighting for, proof that a mage born free, raised free, can fight off the demons, resist temptation. Proof that a mage can be raised in love, not in fear, proof that all their excuses are just that.

She is a ruthless fighter, often blunt, impatient, even rude, but even so she has an innocence that can only come from a lifetime of freedom. She was taught to fear the Templars, but what she fears is an abstract, a concept. A bogeyman created by a worried father to frighten his daughters into caution and obedience. She has no idea how truly terrible they can be. No idea what it is like to live somewhere with no doors, not even the illusion of privacy, to have your schedules set, your studies dictated, your relationships monitored and judged. These past few years in Kirkwall have opened her eyes a little, but not enough. I fear her innocence cannot last, and as precious as it is to me, I don't know that I want it to. I will need her support. She can be the leader I can no longer be, the symbol mages need. The shining example of the way things should be. But she's not there yet. She still thinks there can be some middle ground. She doesn't understand that that battle is long since lost.

She's finished; she looks up, catches my eye. Smiles at me. I smile back, and when her patient has left she comes to sit beside me. "You look tired," she says, and I hardly hear her because I'm watching her lips move.

"It's been a long day," I tell her, tearing my eyes away.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come down sooner," she sighs.

"It's all right. I'm glad to have any help you can give. I'm sure there are other things you could be doing."

"I could say the same to you." She smiles, and I'm not paying attention to her words anymore. The patients are gone. There's nobody here but us. I feel Justice's disgust, and it's oddly comforting. That is him. This piece that loves her, that wants her - that's me. Anders.

But her own thoughts have distracted her. She's staring off into space with an expression like wistfulness, a soft look that I hardly ever see. It's not me she's thinking of when she gets that look. She's taken with that blighted beast from Tevinter. I suppose I understand his appeal. He is handsome enough if you like that type. I've never had much time or patience for the dark and brooding persona, but I've known plenty who find it irresistible. Though if all it took to catch her attention was a tragic past, you'd think I'd at least have a shot.

It doesn't matter, though. This is the difference between me and him. I know I'm dangerous. I know I will hurt her. I won't draw her into that. He'll break her heart just as surely in the end, or worse, but he hasn't the self-control to stop himself. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care to. She's just another mage, after all. How she can stand to put her lips on a mouth that regularly curses everything she is, is beyond me.

But perhaps I am fooling myself. I've been a selfish man all my life. The others blame Justice for this...thing we've become, but to this day, I'm still not sure it was wrong. Merging with Justice was probably the first selfless thing I ever did, and looking back, I'm still not sure how I came to that decision. I never cared before about anyone else, as long as I could be free. All I wanted was to get as much out of life as I could before they killed me or made me tranquil. Justice is by far the better half of this pair. It was my own sins that tainted him, as surely as the darkspawn blood taints me. So maybe it is foolish to think I would be the better man if she turned to me, to think I would send her away if she offered me her heart. If it is Anders that loves her, and not Justice, then who is to say I would not give in, even knowing the pain I would cause her?

She is leaving. I get up, walk with her to the door that leads to her cellar. We say a goodbye that I don't even remember. It's a short walk back to my clinic. I put out the lantern and close the door, ready for rest. Sleep hasn't been much of a refuge these past few years, but it's all I have. Perhaps I can find a few moments of peace before I fall into another dream of her.


End file.
